How Supernovas are made.

It will come down to what you think is enough.

And on some evenings, the ache from phantom heart wounds is what will burn you even when your limbs are protesting over exertion.

It’s all you and the moondust seems a little dull today.

Being aware of why doesn’t always lessen the sting of how. 

You were always wildfire.Even when you didn’t know it. 

Even when you thought the burn was a monster eating you from the inside.

But really, it was just the light of creation barely begun. 

And those who were blinded by that light, they said ‘It burns.’

They ran because they feared it would consume them.

They took their little light jars with them and they said ,’ You are too difficult to love.’

And you. Still unaware, still dark, still burning.

I saw you weep for them.

Tears of pain, blood and hate. Of loathing and self pity.

And when you finally stopped, it cracked the urn of light they had run from.

For you, you were too tired to stop it. To cage it and call that protection.

And those cracks turned into fuming fissures, from within sprung forth your monstrous wildfire. 

Sealed away no more, it showed that you everything you wished to believe was true.

It did hurt because you were growing.

It really was starlight slowly coursing through to your veins. 

That when you defiantly said, 

‘Watch me become light itself, I dare you.’ 

To the backs of those walking away; 

When you whispered it to their little dying fireflies,

Praying to every entity you never believed in, that it was true…

It was.

It was the beginning of you.

As you always wanted to see yourself. 

Neither was before less, nor is now more.

It is just you. As you want to be.

You can accept this light within you now. Feel it seep into fingers that you had not thought to warm again.

Gasp as the fire fills your throat, vocal chords burning with cries you never uttered.

All myth of purification made flesh and blood and burning,burning,burning.

All fierce now, look at you; radiating with every conceivable cosmic power. 

I watched you become light itself. 

That struggle of becoming?

That is how Supernovas are made.

And I know nothing with any certainty.

For myself, being a supernova is enough.

——-

Mental health is just as important as physical health. A lot of us struggle with problems today that we do not feel comfortable discussing because of the stigma surrounding issues like depression or panic/anxiety issues. 

Very often  you’re told to simply deal with it, as if it was merely some box with inaccurate labeling that you accidentally opened and couldn’t return. 

These words are for everyone. No matter how big or small your problem is. There is a whole world of people who will stay and be there in your life when you need them. I promise you this. 

By the time you can accept them, you will have already realised that they are not here to complete you but to complement you. 

You are enough. Always.

The Dismissal of Happily Ever After. Chapter 1.

Chapter 1- The opposite of a volcano is a butterfly
image By the poetrystorepoet- Silvi Alcivar.

~~*~~

It is a truth universally acknowledged…..

Two people who like each other should be together.
It was always just that simple.
Then we grew up. Grew wary of being reckless with a heart that has a jagged scar down its side.
And so we let people go, never telling them what we wanted to say.
Because all wounds heal with time, but some bleed again at the slightest touch.

You’ve stayed up all night, replaying memories behind your tired eyelids.
Waiting for sleep, praying for that elusive unconsciousness .
But this heart wasn’t meant for a cold empty bed.
There’s only so many times you can lie to  yourself.

Two people who understand each other should be together.
It wasn’t meant to be a competition of who knows best for you.
Sacrifice doesn’t quite have the charm of a Hollywood star.
All their tears are pretty.

You’ve held your head up.
It’s taken you 20 years to love yourself.
Don’t wait on a bridge for a love that isn’t ready.
There is still fire in your veins, I promise.

Two people who like each other should be together.
It was always supposed to be that simple.
Then we grew some more.

The Phantom of You.

Dear you,
I still miss you.
Or rather I miss the idea of you.
The what if of us.
I have scars from the words you told me.
Remains of what I tried to carve out.
A constant reminder of the us that never was.
I have bruises from where you held me.
Marks of being wanted.
Created in the shadows by us.
I have this uneasiness hanging over me.
This fear of your words, too pretty to be true.
I will forget your breath on my neck.
And the touch of your fingers on my ribs.
But darling, tell me this,
how am I to forget the warmth of words breathed out in the dark?
If we are Ash, am I too no more?

Falsely Yours,
Me.

A Love-Hate Story.

“The sun shines hot and the wind blows cold.
It is Summer in the Light and Winter in the Shade.”
-Great Expectations.

Five Months Later,almost to the day,it’s finally over.
Completely,absolutely,irreversibly.
A Real Life Experience.whether good or bad depends on my mood when you ask me. But I’m pretty sure I’m going to miss it.
I have spent these five months,training at the Taj Mahal Palace,Mumbai. It’s a mandated semester of training as part of my graduation course, and quite honestly, an eye-opener.
It was different than anything I’ve ever done before. More taxing,more demanding,more challenging. Just More.
What can I say? What else would you expect from an undergrad student,interning at a five-star flagship property?

Life became a flurry of getting to work on time,getting home late more often than not, shifts,uniforms,guest satisfaction scores,hotel occupancy,banquet events and so much more.Things that had never crossed my mind. Days became work days and off days. Holidays became extra working hours. Weekends were synonymous with non-existence. But the friends I made there? They became family.

You don’t go into something like this expecting what will happen. Sure, you can guess. And ofcourse your seniors will tell you all about it. But nothing will even come close to preparing you. And you will never be able to explain the true ferocity of it. I suppose it’s just one of those things where those who’ve been there don’t need these words and those who haven’t..well, they’re probably convinced that I’m full of rubbish.

Yet, I feel so naive writing these words. Every one with a job understands what I’m saying. The long hours, the stress, the pressure, Mrs. Bennett’s nerves would have been shredded to pieces by the lack of compassion. The arguments, and the storming out, the fights and giving up on things because ‘you can’t deal with it right now.’

Adjusting to this new life you’ve been thrown into head-first is hard. There is just so much that you thought you had more time to figure out. And suddenly here you are, on a test-run of being an adult, and now you know why ‘Because.’ is a perfectly reasonable answer to any question.

It’s been barely a week since internship ended. And already I’m wallowing in nostalgia. Something I was sure wouldn’t happen.Real Life seems tough. I didn’t think I’d miss it. But I do.
I miss the hurry,the rush, the noise,the people. It was a familiar confusion, because for these few months ,it was all I knew. My world had reduced to The Taj, and getting there and back. Adjustment was not very kind. But once you know where you stand in the scheme of things, and you know the people and you’ve found your place with a few of them, I think it just all kinda falls into place.

I have met some wonderful people there. Both trainees and people who inspire me. I think it’s left me more capable and aware and appreciative,actually, of everything I thought was mine.

I read A Dairy of Colours recently.
This whole experience? Well, it started out a glossy bright green, which slowly became pale. It faded and for a awhile, it went black. Somehow, somewhere a change began within, and from the black burst forth a shower of purple. It covered everything in sight, the purple collapsed and all that was left, was a tempered midnight blue. It’s just like that.
Maybe I’ll share these colours with you,but for now I must leave. Because five months later, today I have absolutely nothing to do, and I’m going to enjoy it.

For now, I’m happy I get to be a little irresponsible again.

Wonderwall. Reflections of the socially awkward photographer.

Wonderwall: Someone you can’t stop thinking about,someone you are infatuated with.

Here I am, thinking of you and I don’t even know your name.
All I wanted was something forbidden.
And there you were, sitting on the footpath, in a black fitting Tshirt,
A lit cigarette casually held between the fingers.
Eyes met. We spoke.
My mind went a little blank.
It was those stupid cheek bones.
All I wanted was to take a picture of that moment.
And then some more.
Those light hazel eyes had me captivated.
But I didn’t know what to say.
So I walked away.
And now you’re on my mind.

I just wanted to be behind a lens with you on the other side.
Somehow the moment passed.
And now here I am,
trying to capture in words the image that I couldn’t.
I loathe this feeling of resignation.
This utter helplessness.
And now you’re on my mind.

There’s nothing I can do.
Fifteen minutes of acquaintance.
Four days of wishing it better spent.
You’re still on my mind.

One picture.
And you wouldn’t be on my mind.

Why are you still on my mind?

Today.

Today was good day.
I didn’t do anything special.
I got up,went to work.
Laughed and smiled.
I met a friend. Hugged her tight.
I shopped. I ate.
It wasn’t much.
I came home and told my mother, ‘today was a good day.’
I called my closest friend, told her I loved her.
She didn’t say much.She loves me too.
But I could hear the relief in her voice.
Things were better today.
She’s seen days when I refused to eat.
I stared out of the window,surrounded by clouds of ashes and dust.
Hugged myself tight, and never said a word.
Hid from the world,within the four walls that couldn’t offer any solace from memories.
Spiralling down,spinning around.
I did my laundry today. I tried making amends.
I didn’t shed a tear today.
No sir, not one.
I can’t fix you or us or anyone or anything else.
I can fix me.
Today was a good day.

Petrichor And Coffee.

It’s that time of the year again.
Alive. You breathe deeply,
Life filling your lungs.
The Rain falls,
washing away the dust of everyday life.
Your life’s changing around you,
take a moment to look.
From your place above,
sitting on the water tanks,
you could touch the sky.
Far below,the mundane sounds of existence cease.
It’s cold now,
The North wind that demands change blowing,
I’ve missed it so.
Quiet moments of serenity beckon,
As does the scent of coffee freshly brewed,
lingering in the air,persistant.Demanding.
Back on the ground,the little blue light blinks.
One new message.
Miles apart,someone knows.
What it feels like,when you scream in enthrallment at the lightning.
When you shiver,drenched to the bone.Ecsastic and Free.
‘Change’, the North Wind whispered,
lifting my hair,blowing all around me.
Until I promised I would,
and then I smiled.
For it had already begun.
I had a new friend.